"Alexa, Who Is In My House?" (Part 4)
Chapter Four
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The cameras finally came in.
Unfortunately, SOMEONE keeps unplugging the DVR recorder so it's only a live feed.
When I say "someone", I totally mean Michael.
I have to admit, he's pretty good at playing along. Either he's fucking with me, or I'm straight up going bats. I hear talk that a lot of Echoes have been hacked lately. He's not just unplugging the DVR, but he's also plugging the Echo back in. I'd throw the damn things out if it wouldn't put me in a worse situation. He already thinks I'm overreacting and wasting $70 isn't going to help. Anyway, he's the one with the security experience, and at least I can see the live feed on my phone. I thought things were going well, but I was wrong.
Three nights after I last posted, Michael came into the bedroom after he got home from work. We had both been keeping ourselves busy so we didn't have to stay in the house, if not for fear of each other, then for fear of our "room mate".
I heard him come into the room with a sheepish look on his face. It was sweet and cautious, and I loved him for it. All I wanted to do at that moment was hold him. I wanted to kiss his face and smell his hair. I wanted to go back in time.
"Kick... Have you eaten today?"
"No," I said, lowering the makeup brush from my face. I turned to look at him fully. "You okay?"
"No," he said, his voice breaking a bit. "Can I take you to dinner?"
Michael always used to take me to dinner, but we haven't gone in weeks. We like to communicate over food. It's part of our culture, and it's considered a very social family activity that everyone in our community seems to have in common. We don't usually indulge, but he used to like to take me to the nicer restaurants around town when he was courting me to show me off. I nearly cried when he asked.
"I would never turn down a meal with you," I said.
He took me to The Cooperage down the street, and we had a lovely time. It was as if things were as they were only a few months ago, just after the wedding, when we were so proud to belong to each other. We held hands on the way back to the car. He had placed his hand on my knee while he drove home.
This illusion of peace was short-lived. I woke up the next morning, hearing Michael cursing violently from the kitchen. I threw the covers off and rushed down the hallway. I've been making Michael's coffee every weekday morning just before his alarm goes off for the last five years, but it was Saturday, which means he was awake before I was.
"Michael, what's -..."
"KICK, GOD DAMNIT! I told you to KNOCK THIS SHIT OFF!" He pounded his fist into the face of the refrigerator, causing me to wince. He's never struck me before, but lately, I've been of the mind that there's a first for everything.
I flicked on the light to override the weak one pouring in from the living room lamp. The white tile shone with the reflection of water. The refrigerator had been pulled forward, presumably by Michael, to expose a loose tube. It gushed water all over the floor beneath it. My eyes followed the path of veins across the floor. Eventually, the streams broke apart in the center of the kitchen. Wet footprints led into the hallway, darkening the wooden floor. They stopped short at the patched vent.
"Look - it's just a leak. Can't we fix it?"
"A leak?! Babe, this line was cut with something and - no, you know what? I can’t fucking do this. You’re out of control, Kick."
"Wait a second - stop!" I followed him up the hallway. "I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to talk to me!"
He spun around and grabbed me by the wrist. "All you do is talk. You can’t even make up your fucking mind. You’re telling me you love me one minute and then you’re screaming at me the next. I can’t take this anymore! I’m fucking done!"
His hand around my wrist tightened, sending a buzz of pain over my forearm that warned that some nerves were trapped between my bones and his grip. He tossed my arm aside when he was finished barking in my face and slammed the door to the bedroom.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened. I heard something heavy bump to the floor, and then I heard the pair of wheels rolling over the wood. Michael had packed a bag. He was leaving. I dissolved into a puddle of tears on the sectional, unable to speak as I watched him carry it through the mud room and shut the door.
Like when it snows, the house was silent again.
Michael finally texted me yesterday evening, telling me he was going to stay at his brother’s one city over in Santa Fe - about an hour from where we live. By this time, I’ve stopped watching the cameras. There’s nothing to see anyway. This "ghost" is the least of my worries. All I want is my life back. I miss the family we made. I miss my partner. But I’m also angry.
I want to believe this is some unseen force, but... he’s never around when things actually take place.
As the days go by, I just feel like this is all according to his plan. I'm so stressed that I've been losing time. One hour can feel like seconds. I was planning to gather the funds like you suggested, but Michael left before I could. I want to go back five years. I want to go back to being twenty-two years old, seeing his daring brown eyes and feeling like making trouble. I want to go back to the way things were.
I want to go back to the house on Ash Street.
I took your advice and texted my friend who looked up my address for me - Dustin. He came over this afternoon, pacing the floor in my living room. "I’m sorry this is happening," he said, once he read through all of these posts. He handed my phone back to me.
"Me, too," I said. Actually, it was more like a blubber. I was curled up on the couch, hand pressed to my face. I shut my eyes. Wake up.
"We should really get you out of here. Why don’t you go and get your things together? I’m going to call Leah and let her know you’ll be taking the futon." Leah is his room mate. He left the living room and stepped outside for a smoke while he made his phone call.
I just stared into the blank TV, thinking of all the nights we spent binging new Marvel specials on Netflix and playing co-op on Call of Duty while the sun laid a bright streak across the screen. It made me think of gaming side-by-side and teaching him how to count specs in MMOs while he taught me how to snake the best flash grenades in FPSs. It reminded me of the time he came to my rescue and somehow took out twenty guys with just an axe and a flashlight, finishing off our enemies right before the controller died.
"I said, that’s enough!"
I could hear the pounding all around me, sudden and threatening like an unexpected thunderstorm. I opened my eyes to the dark, and immediately began to panic. I haven’t slept in the dark in over three days - the lights in my house are always on. I don’t take chances anymore. Why was I suddenly in the dark, and where was Dustin?
I realized I wasn’t sitting on the couch anymore. I pressed my hands to the space around me. It was solid and cool to the touch. It was the floor. I was sitting on the floor. I felt something brush against my head, and recoiled. I pressed against the wall. I could see movement above me, but no clear image. It smelled musty and humid. I sucked air through my nose and slowly reached out my hand. I could touch the door in front of me, and see the light bleeding in from beneath it.
"Dustin!! I can’t see!"
"Open the door! This isn’t funny!"
I propped myself onto the balls of my feet and slid my hand upwards, searching for the doorknob. I flinched when my fingertips touched it; the cold metal was unexpected. The shock immediately sent my body into motion as I thrusted myself into the door and twisted the knob. The door popped open and I fell onto the floor of my bedroom, sobbing.
I had been inside the closet.
"Kick, what the fuck?! What the FUCK?! I’m not doing this. I’m not going to be a part of your stupid fucking story." He stepped over me and headed for the hallway. I could hear his curse echoing off the walls as he went. "You need help! Mike was right to leave! Are you FUCKING kidding me?! Who in their right fucking mind locks themselves in a dark closet for a half hour just to scare someone?!"
The front door slammed, and my dogs started barking.
"IT’S 3:17 PM."
Update soon.
####Go to Chapter Five
Posted Mar 12, 2018, 9:50 PM UTC · edited